


The Kinkiness of Lestrade

by Greystone



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha Lestrade, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Anal Beads, Anal Play, Anal Plug, Dubious Consent, Enemas, M/M, Marking, Medical Device, Medical Kink, Medical Procedures, Non-Consensual, Object Insertion, Omega Sherlock, Speculum, Watersports
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 23:29:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1446913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greystone/pseuds/Greystone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starts as a kink-fic, then it grows feelings. More chapters on the way. </p><p>I don't have a Beta reader, so apologies in advance for errors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Inspection

“Now this one would require a strong Alpha,” the handler commented in a bored tone as they walked down the concrete aisle.  


Lestrade’s eyes narrowed, assessing the dark-haired beauty locked in the sparse room.  


“Enlighten me,” he demanded in a crisp tone.  


“Well, I wouldn’t just sell him to anybody,” the man replied. “This one displays above-average intelligence. He’s manipulative, and he’s taken advantage of previous Alphas. He accumulated money, stole drugs, and hid successfully for almost a year before re-capture.” The handler paused for breath then continued, “Have you handled an Omega before?” He stared at Lestrade with a flat gaze, no doubt making educated guesses about this status as an Alpha.  


Lestrade replied casually, “No, I have not. However, I track down Omegas daily, and occasionally their psychopathic Alphas, and bring them to justice. In fact, I am the one who tracked this particular Omega. His name is Sherlock.”  


Off balance now, the man flipped through pages on the clipboard and stammered, “Oh, oh yes, oh yes you are right. Never thought to look – capturing officer was one Detective Lestrade.”  


“Let’s negotiate a price,” Lestrade interjected, halting the man’s apologies.  


Sherlock’s ears had perked at the approaching voices, but he gave no indication. His arms were in binders behind his back, and his ankles in leather cuffs, attached to O-rings in the floor. The loose shirt and pants of the Omega Collection Center (OCC) offered almost no warmth.  


However, the sound of Detective Lestrade’s voice kindled a fire within, driving out the chill. Eyes closed and head bowed, Sherlock burned with rage. The man was crafty and, if he was to be Sherlock’s handler, his Alpha, then escaping would be a hundred times more difficult. The man made his living catching errant Omegas and returning them to their Alphas. Sherlock’s prior Alpha had sold him to the OCC without even looking at him. The Alpha has been scammed and shamed; Sherlock was officially damaged goods. Lestrade and the handler left to negotiate a price, leaving Sherlock shaking in fury behind them.  


The detective arrived the next day for his purchase. Lestrade skimmed the medical report. No current injuries and no diseases. He still planned to take the Omega to a private clinic. He, of all people, knew the kind of damage that could be easily missed.  


“Would you like to buy a sedative for your Omega?” the secretary asked, flashing a too-bright smile.  


“That won’t be necessary,” he assured her.  


Two handlers walked Sherlock into the lobby. All restraints had been removed; he wore only the loose white clothing and regulation sandals. He looked pale and angelic, but his handlers were sweating, tensed for the next escape attempt.  


Unintimidated, Lestrade stood in front of Sherlock, locking eye contact with the arrogant Omega, until Sherlock looked away for a split second. At that moment, Greg pushed his aura to the forefront, surrounding the Omega with his energy. He took Sherlock by the wrists and gripped the pressure points. The Omega slipped into sub-space within seconds, eyes unfocused and tension draining out, and, for a moment, Lestrade thought Sherlock might collapse.  


He instructed the pliant Omega, “I will lead you to my vehicle. Follow me and get into the passenger side of the car.”  


They left behind stunned handlers as the black-haired man followed the Alpha, Lestrade leading him by just the wrist.  


They broke contact to get into the car, and Sherlock’s eyes fluttered and attempted to re-focus. He was fighting the subspace. The trick was to keep him under for just a few blocks until they arrived at the clinic.  


Greg reached over to Sherlock and caressed his forehead. “Stay under. All is well and you are safe,” he murmured, pushing his aura to emanate comfort.  


Settled at last, the Omega fell asleep, to all appearances.  


In the parking lot of the clinic, Lestrade injected a tiny dose of sedative into the Omega. He regretted doing so, but it would guarantee that Sherlock was pliable for at least this portion of his visit.  


A large Beta helped him lift the unconscious Omega into a wheelchair and brought him into the building.  


In a private room, after carefully removing the white clothing, Lestrade arranged Sherlock on the padded chair, noting scars and bruises. There were even old tracks on his arms from intravenous drugs.  


"Good afternoon, detective,” the doctor greeted, slipping into the room. “So, this is your Omega? The first you have brought me with your name listed as owner,” he chided. “Does he require restraints?”  


“Yes, for now,” Lestrade answered. He hated to do so, but parts of this were rather invasive and unwilling Omegas struggle.  


Soft, padded suede straps were cinched across the man’s wrists, chest, and thighs. The chair reclined, allowing the doctor full access.  


Sooty eyelashes fluttered as Sherlock started to come to. Lestrade sat next to him, keeping a firm grasp on his wrist.  


“Should I start?” the doctor inquired, “Or would you rather wait?”  


Again, Lestrade’s face tightened as he considered his various options. “Get started,” Lestrade replied.  


The doctor wheeled over a tall contraption on which a black bag hung on a hook, resembling an IV stand. A long, clear rubber tube hung off the bottom of the bag, and an inflatable bulb held the water inside the patient.  


“Body temperature and my usual mix? Gentle laxative, healing and calming additives?” Greg inquired. This wasn’t the first time Lestrade had brought Omegas to the clinic. Alphas often wanted to know whether their Omega had suffered any trauma during their time as a runaway, and this was the clinic the agency used.  


“As always,” the doctor reassured.  


He slipped on latex gloves and a rubber tipped syringe of lube was inserted into the Omega’s exposed anus. The doctor emptied all 15 mils. The chill of the lube and the unfamiliar intrusion caused Sherlock to stir, his eyes opening as the sedative started to wear off.  


The doctor inserted the tiniest of rectal dilators; it was no thicker than a knitting needle. The silicone piece slid in easily. The man removed it after probing for a minute and reaching for the next size up – the size of a pencil. This one slid in with a little bit of resistance.  


“One more and the bulb will slide in easily,” the doctor updated.  


Removing the #2, he reached for the one that was twice as thick. He worked it in, the tapered end assisting the insertion.  


Sherlock was minutes from coherence. A tiny moan escaped him at the feeling of being stretched.  


Pulling out the #3 dilator, the doctor lubed and smoothly inserted 12 inches of rubber tubing. The stretched hole offered little resistance to the deflated bulb.  


It was this that caused Sherlock to jolt into consciousness, all remainders of sedatives and sub-space cleared from his mind. He was restrained, that much was clear, and someone had just pushed an object into his ass. A string of profanity spilled from his mouth as he pulled against the straps. Only then did he register the Alpha Lestrade holding his wrist.  


“Don’t you fucking dare put me under again,” Sherlock snarled  


“You aren’t going to like this,” was the detective’s only reply.  


He nodded to the man whom Sherlock could see was between his legs, violating his space. Suddenly, he understood. This clinic was for Omega inspection. As the 2nd owner, Lestrade wanted to make sure that Sherlock wasn’t damaged.  


A small rhythmic hiss of air was his only warning before the bulb began expanding. Sherlock writhed. It didn’t hurt, but Sherlock could feel it getting larger, putting pressure on his anus. 

Satisfied, the doctor stopped and a small click was heard. Within seconds liquid rushed into Sherlock’s colon; he groaned at the feeling and sucked in more air, ready to continue his profane rant. Lestrade had anticipated such a thing. A large ball gag was suddenly forced into his mouth, muffling the noise.  


“I’m sorry,” Lestrade apologized to the Omega, tightening the buckles on either side of the ball.  


Tears of anger and shame streamed from Sherlock’s eyes as his stomach continued to expand.  


“How much more?” Lestrade inquired, noting his Omega’s increasing agitation. The doctor squeezed the bag. “About two cups,” he replied. Minutes dragged on. The doctor started massaging the bloated stomach, making room for the remaining liquid. When the bag was empty, he detached the bottom portion of the tubing, leaving six inches hanging out of the Omega, in addition to the small pump for the bulb. Wordlessly, heleft the room.  


Greg sat on the little padded stool between the Omega’s legs. He put on latex gloves and carefully prodded at the rim of his Omega’s hole. There wasn’t any leaking, but he gave the bulb an extra pump of air anyways. He massaged the Omega’s perineum. The man’s cock was flaccid right now, but it started to perk up at the sensation. Lestrade's other hand, ungloved, pressed at the trembling rim, a constant reminder of the fluid held at bay.  


Next, he stroked Sherlock's hardening cock with his bare hand. The Omega struggled fruitlessly against his bonds as Lestrade expertly provided a hand job. Within five minutes, the Omega was orgasming against his will, semen coating his enlarged stomach. Clinically, Lestrade wiped up the whiteish fluid, saving a tiny sample in a capped tube for the lab.  


The next part he didn’t always do himself, but with Sherlock it felt necessary. First, he fed another inch of tubing into the Omega’s pucker, pushing the bulb in further. He took the #1 dilator and teased the tensed-up opening. It gave easily, a little bit of fluid leaking out. The #2 dilator was a bit more of a stretch, but the #3 opened him up, allowing the fluid not being held back by the bulb to escape.  


Finally, Lestrade reaching for the item he enjoyed the most. He deflated the bulb and detached the pump. Even deflated, the bulb would hold back the gushing fluid for a minute or two until it was pulled out completely. The L-shaped tube that he held fit over the rubber hose, allowing the deflated bulb to be pulled out through it, after which a person could deftly remove the other 12 inches of tubing without getting splashed. It even had a clever shut-off valve, in case Lestrade wanted the Omega to retain the fluid longer. He threaded the protruding rubber hose through the device. The trick was getting the 1 inch wide tube into the Omega. Fortunately, the rounded edges and slightly tapered design allowed him to put it in with just a little effort. It slid in about 3 inches before reaching the bulb. Holding the tube in the Omega, he pulled out the deflated bulb, which dangled obscenely as fluid began to drip out of the L-tube. It pointed towards the ground and the stainless steel bucket about 6 inches below the edge of the chair.  


When the remaining foot of rubber was removed, the water gushed out in earnest. The additives had already removed the smell and dissolved any solids. Patiently, Lestrade held the tube in place, reaching up occasionally to massage Sherlock’s gut. Nearly 15 minutes later the flow had become a trickle and then stopped, so he removed the device.  


In order to get out any remaining traces, he grabbed the large rubber-tipped syringe filled with plain water. He pushed in the rubber nozzle and depressed the plunger, pumping in 30 mils of water. A second syringe of water followed the first.  


He re-inserted the #3 dilator, opening up Sherlock’s asshole, which had already tightened up in the short amount of time. Lestrade replaced it with the L-tube, switching the two with a practiced hand. Another flow of liquid tinkled into the bucket. Satisfied, he buzzed for an orderly to remove the water. The Beta scurried in and was gone in seconds.  


Satisified with the cleanliness of the Omega, Lestrade inserted a finger into the slackened entrance. The walls tensed at his touch as he felt around on all sides, seeking any abnormal tissue. He inserted another finger with the first and hooked them upwards, feeling for the prostate. The Omega’s entire body tensed when he found it. Clear fluid oozed from the ½ erect cock as he milked Sherlock’s prostate. Satisfied at last, Lestrade reached for the last of the devices. He lubed, then positioned, the anal speculum and pushed it in with a steady hand against the resistence of Sherlock's muscles. Once it was seated correctly, he gave the little screw a twist, pushing apart the two blades of the speculum. He had to be careful to not tear his precious Omega. It took him 20 minutes to reach the 1.5 inch dilation.  


Sherlock bit down hard on the ball gag, stifling moans. The flush had been expected, if uncomfortable. However, the dilation with the speculum pushed him to his limits.  


The doctor returned, summoned by some silent signal. “All cleaned out? Any issues?” he asked cheerfully, sitting down on the stool the Lestrade had vacated. Sherlock felt helpless, splayed open for both to see. The discomfort from the speculum had receded enough so that when the man started probing for his prostate he could feel it. Tears leaked from his eyes as he fought to stay still, refusing to show any reaction as the gland was prodded. A small penlight was shone up inside him. “Reflexes appear fine,” he heard the doctor say, “No scar tissue on the prostate or inner walls. I’d say that your Omega is undamaged.”  


Efficiently, the doctor wrapped up his exam, taking Sherlock’s temperature and listening to his heart. “I need to check his blood pressure,” the man said, motioning to the strap across Sherlock’s left arm. “Do you want me to sedate him?”  


“No,” Lestrade answered. He saw the tear tracks and the lines of drool that had leaked from around the ball gag. The Omega’s face was flushed and his eyes tired and angry. In this heightened emotional state, it would be easy to sub-drop him.  


At the sink, Lestrade moistened a towel with cold water. He removed the gag and the Omega carefully flexed his sore jaw. Lestrade wiped the drool from the sides of his face. The Omega did not make a sound. Re-wetting the cloth, he wiped away the dried tears from the extraordinary blue eyes, then placed the towel on Sherlock’s forehead. It is a universal sign of affection and empathy for discomfort, and it caught the Omega off guard. The Alpha took advantage of this and flared his aura, pushing the feeling of safety. He stroked Sherlock’s left hand as he unbuckled the strap. The Omega seemed hypnotized, his eyes gradually closing, seeking much-needed rest.  


The doctor worked efficiently. “Well, his blood pressure is a bit high. Keep it low-stress for a few weeks, and it should resolve.” The men shook hands and parted ways.  


The Omega’s anal muscles had relaxed just a bit, so Lestrade indulged in one more twist of the screw on the speculum. An inch and 5/8 dilation was not too bad. He slowly pulled out the silver device, and then rubbed healing ointment on the rim of the slack hole. He inserted a #3 plug to keep Sherlock's muscles from tensing back up.  


An orderly was called to help Lestrade redress the unconscious Omega and bring out to Lestrade’s car, where they laid the Omega in the back seat.  


And Lestrade drove them home. 


	2. The Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock had not been made to submit so many times in one day. He had resisted Lestrade’s commands, hoping to overcome the Alpha’s will, as he had easily done with his first Alpha.

Lestrade parked outside his modest home and sat in his car, viewing his Omega in the rear-view mirror.  


He truly is exquisite, Greg thought, admiring the unusually tall and delicate frame folded up in the back seat of the car.  


The thought was tinged with steel, however. From this point on, Lestrade was on his own. No one would help him subdue or train the Omega. 

Carrying the Omega inside was near impossible; the man was a dead weight. So, Lestrade roused him, all the while pushing a crushingly calm aura. It could only be sustained for a few minutes, but by then Sherlock was led inside.  


The facial recognition technology built into the doors of the home guaranteed that Sherlock would not leave, unless he was with Lestrade. Additionally, no one would be able to break in without significant effort. The detective had made hundreds of casual enemies, both Omega and Alpha, and additional security was required.  


When the aura dissipated, the sharp edges returned to Sherlock’s movements. Lestrade watched him with ferocity as Sherlock gathered awareness of his surroundings, nostrils flaring, eyes scanning the living room and the connecting kitchen.  


“Submit,” Lestrade spoke stoically, judging Sherlock’s reaction.  


The Omega’s body screamed with rebelliousness, but the tall man knelt, clasping his hands behind his back, bowing his head. Lestrade critically eyed his form, finding no flaw.  


"Do this promptly when I enter the flat in the evenings after work, and I won’t make you stay kneeling long. You may even stand up now, if you wish.”  


Intriguingly enough, Sherlock was as resistant to this mere suggestion as he was to the command. The man was contrary then, and hard-willed, Lestrade concluded.  


“I imagine you are hungry,” Lestrade continued in his firm, distanced, voice. “The loo is down the hall on the right, and when you're finished, wait in the living room, and I’ll bring you something.” Lestrade strode towards the kitchen without a glance back.  


He warmed up soup and buttered bread. Walking back into the living room, Sherlock was lying on his back on the sofa, contemplating the ceiling with intense, blue eyes. After 10 minutes (during which Lestrade aimlessly read the paper), Sherlock had not yet touched the food.  


“I want you to eat now,” Lestrade said, using a more direct command.  


Sherlock remained deaf and mute.  


Fierce adrenaline started to edge Lestrade’s thoughts. The Alpha was being challenged by this new, HIS, Omega. Setting down the paper with intentional slowness, he walked over to the sofa and stood over the other man, who seemed to look right through him.  


Mind made up, Lestrade let his aura push, just a little, as he straddled the Omega, pinning his arms to the couch with his knees.  


“Submit,” Lestrade intoned in a flat baritone. Still, stoic silence.  


Lestrade laced his fingers into the soft curls and tightened them into a fist, just short of painful. He kissed Sherlock with the same almost-painful force. Finally, a response. Sherlock rose up to meet Lestrade’s intensity, pushing back. The Alpha broke contact within seconds, just to see the hint of bereftness in the Omega’s eyes and the pink flush in his lips and cheeks. Still keeping his strong grip on those dark curls, Lestrade reached for the bread on the table. He held it to Sherlock’s lips, and the Omega delicately took little bites. The soup wasn’t conducive to this method, however. With a sigh, Lestrade disentangled himself and stood, “Eat your soup, then we can take a much-needed shower.”  


Sherlock obeyed.  


Lestrade did not leave the room or shift his attention elsewhere until the Omega was done. Blue eyes searched his from time to time. The Omega seemed to thoroughly enjoy being at the center of attention.  


When Sherlock had eaten all the food, he followed Greg to the bathroom. The Omega lingered in the doorway. The pink flush from earlier once again graced his face. 

Sherlock's eyes focused intently on the bruises, and then on the scars, which decorated Lestrade’s skin as the Alpha stripped. Capturing Omegas and/or arresting Alphas wasn’t an easy task.Sherlock mentally cataloged the physical aspects of his new Alpha. Lestrade was shorter than Sherlock, but brawny. And, as he stripped, he pulled into definition the muscles in his shoulders and back. When Lestrade turned around, Sherlock was pleased to see that he didn’t have the soft stomach that came with easy living. Mentally, he traced the dips and grooves of the Alpha’s chest and stomach. Of course, there was the Alpha’s cock, which was half-erect from the contact they had had earlier.  


“Shy?” the Alpha asked, interrupting Sherlock’s thoughts. The Omega shrugged. Despite his physical responses and attractions, Sherlock’s mind was removed and separate from his body, his transport. If the Alpha wanted to bathe together, then they shall. But Sherlock hung on grimly to his separate inner world. There were no escape plans yet, but there would be. Soon.  


Silently, Sherlock undressed. Lestrade studied him with the same burning intensity with which the Omega had studied the Alpha. Compliantly, Sherlock let himself he led into the large, glassed-in shower.  


Hot water, the first he had felt in months, poured over him. The OCC only used cold water, and living on the streets offered no amenities at all. Intentionally ignoring the Alpha, he hogged the shower without shame, closing his eyes in bliss.  


Lestrade felt satisfied, watching the Omega practically melt under the blast of hot water. It wasn’t meant to be sensual in any way; nevertheless, his cock hardened.  


“I want you to keep your eyes closed,” Lestrade murmured in Sherlock’s ear. Of course, the Omega immediately opened them, his spine stiffening. Lestrade could tell already that this was Sherlock’s most valued sense. He had plans for later, but for now simple obedience would work.  


Lestrade repeated the same actions as when Sherlock refused to eat. He expertly pinned the Omega’s wrists against the cool tile, exerting some down-ward force, indicating that the Omega should kneel. Still, the Omega did not respond.  


Releasing Sherlock’s right wrist, the Alpha swiftly captured a handful of wet curls, and this time the downward force was painful.  


" **Submit** ,” Lestrade ordered in a flat voice. For a second, a wild look crossed Sherlock’s face and he flinched, as if imagining striking the Alpha. That thought would have to be eliminated, Lestrade thought, gritting his teeth.  


Sherlock had not been made to submit so many times in one day. He had resisted Lestrade’s commands, hoping to overcome the Alpha’s will, as he had easily done with his first Alpha. But the painful twist of his hair flared his Omega instincts and he submitted. Incrementally, Sherlock sunk to the floor of the shower, folding down onto the floor until his nose nearly touched the tile.  


Letting go of Sherlock’s hair, Lestrade stood up and slicked himself with conditioner. Kneeling behind the Omega, he felt the bite of the tile in his knees. He admired the black plug that was still in place. Not once had the Omega given any indication that he was aware of its presence.  


Sherlock’s muscles had tightened, and so Lestrade had to tug at the device with a back and forth motion until it popped free. The muscles now twitched, attempting to close completely, but unable to do so for the time being.  


The conditioner bottle had a slim pump top, which made it perfect for Lestrade’s needs. He slicked up the edges of Sherlock’s asshole, feeling the pliancy of it from the dilating earlier. Carefully, he inserted the tip of the slim neck of the conditioner pump into Sherlock’s hole. Supporting the bottom of the bottle, he pumped it a little awkwardly, but with the desired results.  


Eyes closed now, Sherlock had heard Lestrade kneel. What he hadn’t anticipated were the shivers that went down his spine as first the plug was removed, and then a slim, hard object being pushed into his ass. It moved a little, and then a chilly substance flowed into his rectum. Again and again, the substance, which he had concluded was conditioner, was pushed inside him until it felt as if he needed to have a bowel movement.  


Lestrade finally stopped, seemingly satisfied. A blunt finger pushed in, and then a second and a third. The burn was soothed by the coolness of the conditioner, for which Sherlock was grateful.  


Lestrade lined up the blunt head of his cock with the slack opening. A shiver convulsed the Omega’s body. Lestrade laid a reassuring hand on the other’s lower back as he pushed in just two inches, until the crown popped in. There, Lestrade paused, letting the Omega adjust.  


Sherlock grew impatient after a minute of no movement. He rocked his hips, inviting the Alpha to push deeper. That is what Lestrade had been waiting for.  


He pushed in steadily until only the base of his cock was visible. The Omega let out an audible moan. Barely pulling out at all, Lestrade thrust with a rocking motion, seeking the sweet pleasure spot of the Omega. An inarticulate groan of pleasure shortly following by rhythmic clenching around his cock informed him of the Omega’s release.  


The Alpha pulled out until only the head of his cock was still in, and then thrust back in, hard, a handful of times before orgasming. Instinct told him to stay buried deep, even though he had not knotted the Omega. In time, with greater intimacy, his knot would seal his semen inside the lovely Omega, but even without the knot, the compulsion remained.  


“Stay absolutely still,” he ordered Sherlock, before getting out of the shower and returning with a plug from his bag of toys.  


Sherlock had remained folded up for his Alpha. However, his hole twitched and a combination of cum and conditioner started to slip out, tickling maddeningly. Lestrade pushed it back in as best he could before easing in the relatively thin and flexible plug. Sherlock bit back a moan. His hole was tender and the urge to defecate was strong.

There would be no relief, however, as he felt a slim object being pushed in. The round bulb was deflated, but once it was inside the Omega, Lestrade pumped it up. The hiss of the hand pump accompanied the swelling inside, stopping just short of painful, sealing the passageway. The Alpha’s instincts were practically purring, knowing that a knot, even a man-made one, would keep his cum safely inside. He knew that in a ½ hour or less, instincts would die down and he could allow the Omega to empty himself.  


Sherlock shivered, the heat from the shower dissipating. “Keep your eyes closed,” the Alpha commanded, pulling the Omega to his feet. Standing up, Sherlock felt dizzy and his bowels cramped. He could feel the little hand-pump dangling obscenely, brushing against his leg.  


Strong arms engulfed him, leading him safely out of the shower. The fluffy towels were draped over him and he was led, presumably, into the master suite.  


“You are at the edge of the bed. Go ahead and get in.” The towels were dropped and Sherlock felt with his hands, ascertaining the height of the bed before crawling up and carefully laying on his side under the blankets, mindful of the plug and his complaining bowels. The warm Alpha spooned him from behind, arms pulling him close. Sleep claimed Sherlock, despite his best efforts.  


Several hours later, Sherlock guessed, he woke up to the feeling of the plug being deflated and pulled out. His hole had reclosed enough to keep the viscous fluid inside.  


They were no longer in the bed; Lestrade must have carried him to the bathroom.  


“I want to fill you up more before you release,” Lestrade told him. Eyes open now, Sherlock tensed up.  


“It won’t hurt,” Lestrade assured him, “Stay as you are.” And so Sherlock remained prone on the floor. The towel below him was toasty warm, which kept the chill, and his anxiety, at bay.  


Lestrade lubed up the neck of the small funnel. He had been dying to do this for forever, and now he could. This Omega was HIS.  


“Pull your knees up,” he directed, "And keep your ass up high.” The Omega obeyed. The twitching hole easily accepted the rounded shape. It was barely a half-inch in diameter. Lestrade positioned himself over the blue opening of the funnel and released his bladder, watching in satisfaction as gravity pulled his warm urine inside the Omega. When it threatened to overflow, he held his stream until it went down, seeping into Sherlock. 

“I bet you could take a little more,” he murmured. Sherlock did not respond, despite any discomfort he was in.  


It felt incredibly dirty, and Lestrade could only imagine what it felt like to know his warmth was inside marking the Omega as his.  


Throughout, Sherlock remained still. Bladder empty, Lestrade removed the funnel.  


Warmth trickled into his bowels and Sherlock’s cock stirred, despite himself, reacting strongly to the dominant display; the marking of territory.  


“You can release now if you wish,” the Alpha allowed. Moving as quickly as his bowels would allow, Sherlock moved onto the loo, gratefully releasing the combination of conditioner, sperm, and urine. 

Lestrade stayed throughout, a steady presence. His grey eyes were glued on the Omega, seemingly fascinated.  


Exhausted and empty, Sherlock wavered to his feet. A quick shower cleaned him up. The Alpha was attentive, washing the pale Omega with reverence.  


He was guided back to bed, made to eat soup and crackers, and then he fell asleep again. In his mind, Sherlock knew that this type of treatment couldn’t last forever, but while it did, he would be too exhausted to make plans for escape.


	3. The Domestic

It was morning when his Omega woke again. There was movement between the bedroom, then the bathroom, and, finally, Sherlock shuffled into the kitchen, wrapped in a borrowed robe. His eyes did not lift from his food as he shoved warmed-up breakfast food into his mouth. Lestrade broke the silence, “I want you to be my other half.” His voice came out flat and awkward, not at all conveying the sincerity with which he spoke the words.  


The Omega raised an eyebrow briefly, and then continued devouring the newspaper at the same pace he had eaten his food.  


“You’re intelligent, and you know the streets, how Omegas survive without their Alphas. I imagine you would be helpful in tracking down Omegas, or Alphas,” Lestrade added on at the last second.  


The Omega comment had caused Sherlock to freeze, blue eyes clouded. His mind raced through several scenarios in less than half a second. Appear too eager, and he would be locked in the house forever, but doth thou protest too much, the same result again. And endless permutations. Judging Lestrade to be able to read a truly false response, he summoned the same face he used when denying his former Alpha: indifferent, serene, and nearly icy.  


“Not interested,” he replied, the millisecond of stillness passing in such a way that Lestrade questioned if it had even occurred. Sherlock sipped his tea.  


“Well, the invitation stands if and when you are tired of the bedroom romp on the nights I find the energy after work, you let me know,” Lestrade replied, matching Sherlock’s cold, indifferent, demeanor. Lestrade sipped his tea.  
Domesticity only lasts so long between predators. “If you’re done, this is my last day off of work. So, plan to spend it in bed,” the Alpha commented in a bland tone, with only a touch of implied steel. He put his empty cuppa in the sink and walked towards the bedroom. He did not look to see if the Omega followed.  


Minutes later, the sound of the shower running whispered faintly. A tingle of guilt traced Sherlock’s spine, etching unease around the edges of his eyes. The Alpha hadn’t commanded, but he damn well knew what he was supposed to do. He held off another five minutes before joining Lestrade in the Master suite.  


He perched on the bed until Lestrade emerged from the steam; he looked at ease and happy. A towel isn’t the most flattering wardrobe, but Sherlock’s mind had no issues judging his Alpha’s cock.  


“All yours,” Lestrade said cheerfully, standing near the bed. The towel was being used to dry his skin off more thoroughly now, so no imagination was needed.  


For a moment, the Omega ached to touch, skin-on-skin. Lest his thoughts betray him, Sherlock hastened into the humid bathroom, closing the door before shedding his robe.  


Twenty minutes later, Lestrade admired as the Omega stepped out of the bathroom, pink tinging his cheeks, dark hair damp and sexy. He was covered modestly by the robe again.  


“Come here,” he spoke from where he lay on the bed, “Watch the morning news with me.”  


How domestic, Sherlock thought drolly. Anticipating what was to come, he laid down, leaving careful space between them.  


It started with a gently touch to the hip, barely felt through the fabric of the robe. Then the Alpha pulled Sherlock closer, wrapping an arm behind Sherlock’s neck, rubbing his thumb across the ridge of his exposed collarbone where the robe had slipped open.  


They both watched TV with blind eyes, caught up in the basically chaste gesture of affection. After two long minutes, the Omega finally relaxed, leaning in closer by a fraction. Lestrade’s cock stirred, but he ignored it. It was time for the Omega to seek him out.  


The news ended and a talk show started. Lestrade turned off the telle. He closed his eyes, but did not stop smoothing his thumb over warm, pale, skin. In the dimness, the Omega was bolder. He turned on his side, the front of his body facing the Alpha’s. Sherlock’s erection was obvious.  


Lestrade moved his leg, pressing it against the hardness between Sherlock’s legs. A tiny, stifled moan brought a satisfied grin to the Alpha’s face.  


In rhythmic motions the Omega ground against the Alpha. Pale hands gripped Lestrade’s washed-out t-shirt, wringing it into wrinkles. Despite his grinding, Sherlock made no move to grip his own cock. 

Typically an Alpha was responsible for bringing an Omega to orgasm. Pheromones released by the glands under the skin of their palms caused a positive feedback loop, allowing the Omega’s orgasm to come sooner and reach a higher intensity. On their own, an Omega’s orgasm was long to come, and the pleasure sweet, but not intense.  


The belt to Sherlock’s robe was hopelessly tangled beneath him. So, Lestrade contented himself with pulling unruly fabric aside until Sherlock’s erection was freed. The first touch to the throbbing erection caused a ridiculously sexy, needy, moan. The Alpha smoothed his palms over the tight skin and velvety head. Precum smeared against his questing hand. After several strokes to his head, the Omega orgasmed, body arching. Lestrade did his best to pleasure him through it, cum spattering over them both. He stopped when Sherlock’s body went boneless; Lestrade pulled him close, and shortly there-after the Omega fell asleep.


	4. The Directive

Sherlock squinted at the digital clock, 3:14pm. He remembered drifting off to sleep after an intense orgasm that seemed to release years of tension from his body. Lestrade was not in sight, so he took the rare opportunity to survey the room, noting the motion sensors above the windows. No doubt, the automated systems tracked his every move just as well as they informed the detective of movement outside the windows.  


Escape seemed possible one of three ways: through a window or door, through a wall, or while accompanying Lestrade outside the home. The 3rd option was the most appealing, however he needed to bide his time, lest he appear too eager.  


Letting his mind work subconsciously for a moment, Sherlock strolled into the kitchen. Lestrade was not there. However, the haste with which he left – as indicated by the disarray in the otherwise immaculate kitchen (cabinet door left a little apart, food container left on the counter). Obviously, a case had required his immediate attention.  


At his leisure, Sherlock snooped, opening every cabinet and drawer in the house, examining items, ascertaining their value and significance. Of course, Lestrade would know – the house’s motion sensors knew when he moved from room to room, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what Sherlock was doing. However, by looking at everything in an aimless, intentionally childish way, it would be impossible to tell which items Sherlock found valuable.  


Several hours passed. The Omega lay on the couch, filing away information in his mind for later reference.  


Sometime in the early hours of the morning, the Alpha returned. Sherlock watched as Lestrade shuffled through the flat, shedding clothes. He went straight to bed, not even sparing Sherlock a glance.  


The Omega felt slighted. Despite his best intentions, Sherlock’s newly stoked Omega nature urged his feet to the bedroom. He craved the attention, the closeness, of his Alpha. And perhaps Sherlock had always been a little dramatic and attention seeking, but he had managed to gain that thus far with his intellect, rather than through submission. It was disturbing to find his ego responding to the Alpha.  


Lestrade was already asleep, so Sherlock shimmied under the covers and let his fingers make the lightest contact with Lestrade’s hand. Omega nature slightly appeased, he lay there motionless, memorizing the breathing of his Alpha.  


The days passed uneventfully. Lestrade worked at least 12 hours a day. He would pick up takeout every night, and then work on his computer or read cases until falling into bed. He shared niceties with Sherlock, but did not discuss his work or his reading. Both the computer and files were placed by the door every night, next to his shoes. The Omega had already been informed that touching either item would result in time spent in the OCC. This held Sherlock’s interest at bay, for the moment.  


The Omega remained untouched for days.  


An assessment of the walls in the flat had proven that they were too well built to be cut through with a sharp blade. Sherlock had removed an outlet cover in the guest bedroom and discovered brick walls behind the plaster. The technology built into the house was wireless, learning its commands from some company’s servers, probably hundreds of miles away. So, hacking wasn’t an option, although disruption of the wireless signal should be possible. Over half of Sherlock’s subconscious was assigned to figuring out which household items could be used to block the signal. The easiest plan was still to get out of the house by taking the Alpha up on his offer to be a part of an investigation.  


Intent on gaining Lestrade’s permission to leave the house, Sherlock intentionally dressed his best and mussed his curls just right, remembering how much Lestrade loved to pull them when Sherlock was… He stopped that train of thought.  


At 8:19pm, the Alpha came home with more of the innocuous takeout food. The routine which he had established over the course of a week resulted in him on the couch, eyes glued to his laptop. Sherlock let him get settled at the coffee table in the living room before entering and throwing himself dramatically on the sofa.  


The Alpha raised his head, and an eyebrow, but kept eating. His eyes refocused on the laptop screen.  


“I’m bored,” Sherlock declared melodramatically.  


No response.  


Sherlock sidled closer until he almost touched the Alpha in what he hoped was an enticing pose.  


“If you want something, say it. Don’t be a child and make me guess,” Lestrade remarked, his face deadpan, eyes not leaving the screen.  


The Omega dropped the act.  


“I want to go outside. I am willing to accompany you on your cases,” Sherlock replied, sitting up straight on the couch, arms crossed, pose dropped.  


Lestrade slurped a noodle.  


"I won’t track down Omegas, only Alphas,” Sherlock snapped, impatient with the silence.  


Grey eyes snapped up, searching Sherlock’s face; blue eyes met them boldly. “Okay,” Lestrade conceded, “Be ready at 7:30am. We can discuss details then.”  


Sherlock began to stand up, but suddenly a strong hand gripped the back of his neck, holding him in place.  


“Attempt to run away,” Lestrade intoned in a flat voice, hard grey eyes meeting blue, “and I will hunt you down and sell you to the most sadistic bastard I can find.”  


Feeling drained and weak, Sherlock stood up once the Alpha removed his hand. He hoped that he didn’t look at wobbly as he felt as he retreated to the other side of the room and pulled out a book. After an hour, he retired to bed before Lestrade, and lay in the dark, shivering, unable to get warm.  


Lestrade shut down his laptop well past midnight. Walking into the bedroom, he immediately felt a sickly, anxious cloud wrapping around his Aura. Lestrade was surprised – typically Omega’s very rarely projected an Aura, if they even had the ability.  


Stripping quickly, Lestrade analyzed his guilty conscience. He had ignored Sherlock for days, hoping the Omega would approach him of his own volition. That hadn’t worked and now Sherlock was ill, the way Omegas get when their Alpha rejects them.  


He slid into bed and wrapping his arms around the Omega, pulling him closer. Lestrade inhaled the scent of Sherlock’s curly brown hair, then his neck, which smelled lovely, too.  


“Oh shit,” Lestrade said, bolting upright, “you’re close to heat. No wonder.”  


Sherlock stirred and somehow moved even closer, plastering himself to the Alpha. Lestrade hadn’t bothered dressing, but Sherlock wore pajamas.  


“Take these off,” Lestrade instructed, tugging at the loose fabric. The Omega obeyed, reluctant to break skin contact. As soon as possible, a naked Omega was once again snuggled with his Alpha in the “little spoon” position. Sherlock shifted in tiny movements, arousing Lestrade. His cock was fully erect in minutes, pressing against the Omega’s ass. The position felt too impersonal, however, so Lestrade sat up and then straddled the Omega, pushing him onto his back.  


This seemed to please Sherlock, or at least his primal nature. He bucked up against Lestrade playfully. With a growl, Lestrade captured Sherlock’s wrists and hauled them above the Omega’s head. Sherlock helpfully crossed them at the wrist, so that the Alpha could hold them with one hand.  


“You are impossible,” Lestrade said, a grin spreading across his face. He idly wove his free hand through the black curls.  


“Tie me up,” Sherlock responded unexpectedly, “So that both your hand are free. I want to have no choice; to be completely at your will.” The last few words came out as a breathy whine.  


“It’s just your heat,” Lestrade replied, suspicious of Sherlock’s change of heart.  


“Maybe some,” Sherlock admitted, “But you made me submit six times that 1st day, and how you ignore me, and I find that insulting. I want you to make me submit, show me how much of an Alpha you are.”  


Lestrade studied Sherlock’s face, searching for a lie, a tell, anything – and there was none. With a thrill he crushed Sherlock’s lips in a savage, brief, kiss.  


“You are a surprising and exquisite creature,” Lestrade said, half to himself. Just as swiftly his aura changed. “ **Stay** ,” he commanded, pushing his Aura, so that the Omega would feel his strength of will.  


Lestrade got out of bed and retrieved a plastic tub from his closet. It appeared mundane, which was the intent. Inside was a modest collection of sex toys. Cuffs, a collar and leash, and an anal speculum bumped with two strings of anal beads and several dildos in a set ranging from pencil-sized to one larger than his own cock.  


Sherlock couldn’t see inside, but the distinct sounds each item made as a Lestrade arranged them on his dresser left both a little and a lot to the imagination.  


“ **Close your eyes** ,” the Alpha commanded as he organized, “Unless you want to be blindfolded and cuffed?”  


The Omega replied in a less confident voice than before, “No, Alpha.”  


The reply sent a thrill up Lestrade’s spine, and his hands were a little less steady now. He turned back towards the bed. Sherlock has his arm thrown theatrically over his eyes. For a long moment the Alpha drank in the sight, still reveling in the flawless pale skin, contrasting with dark curls. The jutting edges of bones just barely visible under the skin begged to be worshiped.  


“Turn onto your stomach,” he spoke in a voice that could barely be heard. Sherlock did so, pillowing his face against his arm. Settling on the bed, the Alpha tapped on one hipbone, signally Sherlock to lift up as he slid a pillow underneath.  


He took Sherlock’s lax arms, snapping the cuff around one wrist, threading the metal around the slatted headboard, and then fastening them to the other wrist.  


Sherlock shivered deliciously as the cuffs snapped into place. Lestrade had sized them properly, unlike amateurs who would have left them too loose, allowing Sherlock to slip out. Short of dislocating his thumb, there was no escape at the moment. His mind raced, however, obsessively planning how he would escape if he had to. The thoughts barely slowed as Lestrade talked and moved around.  


A firm slap to his ass jolted Sherlock into reality. “Get out of your head,” he heard Lestrade say, his humorous tone underlain with command.  


Strong hands rubbed the sting out of his flesh, and then moved down his leg to his feet where they expertly worked the tension out. "I forgot lotion, be right back,” Lestrade said.  


Not even a minute later the Alpha returned, but Sherlock’s compulsion had returned. Mentally, he decided to dislocate the left thumb in order to slip the cuffs.  


“ **I told you to stay out of your head** ,” the Alpha reprimanded. He began to project his Aura, a crushing weight against errant thoughts.  


Sherlock panicked. He did not want to be sub-dropped. He did not want to submit, despite his prior words. He pushed his left thumb through the slat of the head board and pushed hard, rolling his thumb to an unnatural angle.  


Lestrade winced as the Omega’s Aura flared to life. He had forgotten that Sherlock had one, and, at the moment, it was trying to protect the Omega. Immediately he straddled Sherlock’s thighs, pinning his body to the bed. This is what I get for not making my Omega submit for days on end, he thought grimly, as the Omega’s body rebelled, trying to throw off the weight of the Alpha. Secondary pressure points would be necessary, Lestrade concluded. It took only seconds to apply the almost painful pressure to the two points in the small of the Omega’s back, on either side of the spine.  


Combined with the flare of comfort from Lestrade’s Aura, the Omega immediately went limp, sub-dropping like a stone. Lestrade eased up the pressure after a few seconds, rubbing the two points with his thumbs.  


“Sherlock, how do you feel?” he inquired calmly.  


“Feels good,” The Omega mumbled, arching his back before yawning deliciously, “m’tired.”  


Already? Lestrade wondered. “Why are you so tired?”  


“Can’t sleep. Too much head space.”  


Stunned, Lestrade considered this new development. As an Alpha, he had let his Omega down, failed to meet his needs in at least three ways in a matter of days.  


“I’ll fix that,” Lestrade promised.  


“M’broken. Can’t be fixed. Omega with an Aura is a freak,” Sherlock replied.  


“I don’t think do,” Lestrade replied in a tone that brooked no argument. Abandoning his toys, Lestrade put them away and uncuffed his limp Omega. He pulled Sherlock close and let him sleep.


	5. The Departure

For the first time in days, Sherlock woke without any anxiety. When he tried to move, however, the Alpha held him firm.  


“Hello beautiful,” the Alpha spoke into Sherlock’s ear, sleep roughening his voice.  


Sherlock resisted the complement mentally and physically, pulling away even harder. Within seconds, Lestrade had his fingers resting on the small of the Omega’s back, applying pressure. Combined with the rising energy of Lestrade’s Aura, Sherlock submitted, going limp.  


“I’m sorry I didn’t make you do this every day,” Lestrade apologized.  


“I hate you,” Sherlock replied, grating the words out between his clenched teeth.  


“You only say that because I sub-dropped you,” Lestrade replied, unmoved by Sherlock’s words. “I’ve read that they think Omegas with Auras were Alphas in the womb, but for some reason their hormones changed, and so they were born an Omega. I think that is why you hate submitting, and yet you need it so badly. So, you may hate me now, but in a couple of hours you will love me again, as your did those first two days,” he paused to relish the words, “I **owned** you.”  


Sherlock’s body shivered, remembering in perfect clarity the lovely depraved things Lestrade had done to his body – and how much he wanted that again.  


He felt Lestrade grin against his back, or at least he imagined it.  


“You would like to do those things again, wouldn’t you? And with your heat coming on, they should be especially enjoyable,” Lestrade continued to speak; incredibly filthy images filled Sherlock’s head. He whined and shifted restlessly, seeking to grind his burgeoning erection on something, anything.  


His Alpha knew what to do, taking him in hand. The other explored the leaking edge of his asshole. He was tight, but the copious lubrication would make heat easier.  


“I want to open you up with my speculum and watch your fluids well up and collect in your ass,” Lestrade whispered in a seductive voice.  


That was enough to send Sherlock over the edge, his climax spilling over himself and his Alpha. A gush of fluid from his quivering entrance coated Lestrade’s fingers.  


“Oh, you are exquisite,” Lestrade praised as Sherlock’s spine-arching orgasm subsided. “Stay put,” the Alpha ordered, getting out of bed.  


Sherlock huffed out a little laugh, too satiated to respond coherently. What seemed like hours later, Lestrade returned and urged him out of bed and into a soft robe. Sherlock flushed as fluid seeped into the fabric.  


In the kitchen, the sight of food ignited the Omega’s appetite. He moved to sit down, but the Alpha caught his arm, “I don’t want you to ruin my furniture, as delightful as that would be,” Lestrade explained. 

He deftly undid Sherlock’s robe. “Turn around and lean over the chair.”  


The Omega obeyed, curiosity peaked. The Alpha rubbed warm fingers over his over-sensitive opening, eliciting a gasp.  


“You are gushing, my Omega.” Suddenly an object that was not a finger pushed insistently at Sherlock’s asshole. “Open up,” Lestrade commanded teasingly, one hand resting on the small of Sherlock’s back.  


The Omega relaxed and the small object slid in smoothly for several inches until the bulb at the base slowed progress. He moaned at the feeling of the stretch as his opening wrapped around the girth by millimeters. Finally, it popped in and stopped, secured by the flat bottom of the butt-plug. The roundness felt just a bit like a knot, and when Lestrade pushed at the base of the plug, it teased his instincts.  


This was, by far, the best plug for an Omega close to heat, Lestrade thought. When he had bought it on a whim online, he had been skeptical. But, judging from his Omega’s reaction, it was working as advertised. It teased an Omega, making them crave a proper knot.  


“Well, all set now,” Lestrade said brusquely, as if this were a completely normal event, “Sit down and eat.”  


Sherlock did so slowly, a deep pink flush gracing his normally pale face. While the Omega ate, Lestrade checked his phone. He’d taken Thursday off to deal with Sherlock’s crisis, but today was Friday and work had called.  


“You’re leaving,” Sherlock stated flatly. His blue eyes indicated his poorly-hidden displeasure.  


“Not all Alpha’s are independently wealthy,” Lestrade snapped, then winced with guilt. “I will be back in ten hours, hopefully less. Then we will have the weekend to satiate your heat. Until then, you eat, keep that plug in, and play with yourself if you wish.”  


A petulant look continued to grace Sherlock’s face. “You wish you could come with me?” Lestrade guessed.  


“You promised,” Sherlock replied. Lestrade remembered no such promise, but he did intend to make his Omega happy.  


“You may come when your heat is over. A sharp mind like yours isn’t to be wasted.”  


Sherlock perked up at the complement. Lestrade finished eating and prepared to leave. By then, the Omega was sprawled on the couch.  


“I’m leaving,” Lestrade called out. Sherlock did not reply, fixated on the ceiling. 

Some of his sour mood having returned, Lestrade’s temper rose. “ **Strip and kneel by the couch** ,” he commanded without hesitation, dropping his things by the door. Sherlock scrambled to comply, dropping the robe and kneeling on the carpet.  


Taking a deep breath, Lestrade spoke in a calmer tone as he entered the living room, “Close your eyes.” The Omega obeyed. 

“You submit so beautifully,” the Alpha observed, kneeling behind Sherlock. His left hand tugged at the butt plug while the other hand played with Sherlock’s erection.  


“You may do this while I am gone. I could command you not to touch yourself, but your heat will already be unbearable as it is. So, enjoy, but when I return, be ready to submit. I will not have as much patience as I do now.” He stroked more firmly and gave the plug expert twists and pushes, milking cries from the Omega. He could hear the wet sound of lubrication dammed up behind the plug. Minutes later, Sherlock climaxed.  


“Clean this up,” Lestrade said brusquely, before washing his hands and leaving for work, his Omega still whimpering in the living room.


	6. The Sensation

Gradually, the haze of climax dispersed. Sherlock cleaned himself and the upholstery with clumsy fingers, heat edging hard at his consciousness.  


He was hyper-aware of the plug; He could feel the bulbousness of it shifting with every step. The rubbery plastic tugged at his sensitive rim, and with a whimper he climaxed again in the shower. He sat on the edge of the tub, hot water caressing him much too lightly. Sharp tugs at his own nipples left him breathless. Dark curls plastered to his head, Sherlock knew that he was enticing in this state.  


Lestrade, his Alpha, needed to be here to touch him and handle him. A second orgasm wracked his body, focused mainly around his trembling asshole, which clenched rhythmically around the plug, milking a knot he wished was there. Cold water replaced the warm, and that, too, was a relief.  


He toweled off, raided the fridge, and then curled up in bed, practically humping Lestrade’s pillow. The Alpha’s scent smelled homey, sweet, and sharp, like cedar. He breathed deep until fitful sleep overtook.  


``````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

Lestrade stealthy followed the scent of his Omega. Sherlock was dozing at the moment.  


The Alpha shucked his clothing, then climbed onto the foot of the bed. A pale foot stuck out from under the covers. Grasping it lighting caused the other man to startle awake, blinking owlishly. Lestrade said nothing as his strong hands began to work the nerve endings of Sherlock’s foot.  


Oxytocin suddenly flooded the Omega, bringing wakefulness. Sherlock mewled as Lestrade found a particularly responsive muscle. “Too much,” the Omega gasped, practically writhing on the bed.  


With satisfaction, Lestrade did stop, curious to see what the Omega would do.  


Kicking the comforter off the edge of the bed, Sherlock folded his knees under and arched his back, lovely arse in the air. The base of the plug peaked out from between his buttocks.  


“Please,” Sherlock begged, his voice cracking.  


As much as Lestrade would like to tease further, he needed to satisfy his Omega first.  


“Spread your arse,” he instructed, a small wave of adrenaline coursing through him as Sherlock complied. The muscles had tightened around the narrow base of the plug, below the pseudo-knot.  


The first experimental tug, feeling the resistance, sent even more blood to his cock, almost painfully so.  


The Omega leaned heavily into the pillows, muffling a groan. Not wanting to hurt Sherlock, Lestrade re-slicked the edges of the tight hole. He tugged a few more times at the plug, working lubricant around the narrow neck. Sherlock visibly shuddered below him. “I can’t last,” he spoke, his voice ragged.  


“Whatever you do, don’t let go of your arse,” the Alpha replied. Practically convulsing, Sherlock orgasmed, gripped his own arse with white-knuckled fingers. The Alpha milked Sherlock’s cock playing with it as if it was his own, stopping short of over-sensitivity.  


Out of patience, Lestrade eased out the plug. He reveled at how the Omega’s ass clenched the roundness. Behind it a veritable flood of uncontained lubricant began to seep out. With as much self-control as he could muster, Lestrade lined up his throbbing erection and began to push in. Little rocking motions slicked up his cock as he sank in deeper. Kindly, he pushed away the Omega’s hands, letting Sherlock use them to brace himself. Seating to the base, Lestrade set a rapidly increasing pace. After only a few minutes, he spilled inside Sherlock.  


To his surprise, he could feel his knot starting to swell, as could the Omega.  


Sherlock ground against him, instinctively stimulating the knot. It had almost reached its full size then Sherlock cried out, almost fearfully.  


Lestrade could smell the slightly sharp smell and feel the moisture soaking into the sheets.  


“I am so so sorry Alpha,” Sherlock babbled, a high note of panic in his voice. Lestrade gripped him tightly by the shoulders, keeping their bodies seated firmly together.  


“No, no, it’s alright,” he soothed, “It’s a natural, a reaction to the knotting, a sign of submission. Wetting yourself lets the Alpha know you have lost all control and have submitted properly to the Alpha. It won’t happen every time.”  


Lestrade was surprised the Omega didn’t know this already. Gingerly, he manhandled the other over and away from the wet spot. Settled in for a long, if pleasurable wait, Lestrade idly played with the Omega’s limp penis.  


Sherlock made delightful sounds: choked, needy, whimpers, so desperately dampened.  


“Grind on my knot, like you did before,” Lestrade said in a low rumble. A particularly high-pitcher whimper let him know that the suggestion was well received.  


Sherlock twisted his slim hips, then pulled his body away experimentally, seeing how much space there was to play with before the knot halted his movement.  


Lestrade grinned, and then rubbed the tight pucker of his Omega; he could feel his knot just on the other side of the tight entrance. The sensation, the knowledge, just about drove Sherlock mad. He ground down and twisted, then pulled back as far as possible.  


Lestrade noted the Omega’s increased rate of breathing as orgasm approached. He took the Omega’s erection in hand, then, as Sherlock pulled away to feel the pull of the knot, Lestrade pulled away, too, so that the knot actually stretched Sherlock’s entrance a bit, much more than Sherlock had tried on his own.  


The delicious burning sensation of the sudden stretch pushed the Omega over the edge. His entire body thrummed and his pulse made itself known in his sensitive canal as he spilled into Lestrade's hand. Never had Sherlock felt this way, but, already, a low stir of insatiable heat coiled in his abdomen.  


Over the course of fifteen minutes, the Alpha’s knot shrunk until it was effortless to pull out. Lestrade made no move to stop Sherlock as he gingerly got out of bed. He stripped the sheets and the underlying mattress cover, too, trying to get rid of the mess. Not only was it offensive to his sensibilities, but he found it unthinkable to have not known that it could happen.  


New sheets went on and the Omega lay down to sleep on the other side of the bed. The stubborn part of his nature wanted to deny the Alpha any further shows of “complete submission.”  


Two sleepless hours later, Sherlock could not deny his throbbing entrance or cock any longer. Lestrade was asleep, as indicated by his respiration. Stealthily, Sherlock went into the bathroom.  


There was no lotion, but the conditioner would work. He flushed at the memory of the conditioner being pumped into his arse. Feeling inspired, he slicked up both his hands, one for his cock and two fingers for his arse. Twenty minutes later he was stifling whimpers, but no orgasm was forthcoming but Lestrade would smell the conditioner on him if he sought the Alpha now. Gritting his teeth, the Omega turned on the shower and stepped in to wash away the evidence. It was torture to scrub himself and, in less than a minute, he was nearly reduced to tears.  


It hadn’t taken Lestrade long to determine that Sherlock was fighting the heat. Lestrade had woken the moment his Omega left the bed. He had waited patiently for Sherlock’s return, eagerly anticipating the Omega’s desire to be knotted. Only when he heard the water run did he decide to invade the other’s privacy.  


The water-aerosolized cloud of pheromones in the air nearly knocked him on his ass. “Christ, Sherlock,” Lestrade muttered before stepping into the shower. Keeping his Alpha nature in check (although by a very tenuous thread), the Alpha wrapping an arm around the other man’s waist.  


Sherlock was trembling and hunched over, leaning again the wall.  


“What do you want me to do?” Lestrade spoke quietly. A strong shudder shook the Omega at his words.  


“Please let me orgasm,” Sherlock replied in a voice devoid of any emotion, which in itself indicated his distress. With care, Lestrade felt for his erection and stroked it carefully. The Omega seemed very close.  


“Do you want me to use the conditioner?” Lestrade asked seriously. With those words, Sherlock shuddered, spamming in Lestrade’s grip. Surprised, his barely managed to milk Sherlock through the intense orgasm, inordinately pleased.  


“Do you mind telling me what that was about?” he asked, once the Omega had subsided into limpness, leaning heavily against his Alpha.  


“A memory linked to a strong emotional response,” Sherlock replied, his speech slow and analytic.  


“I would like to strengthen that association further,” Lestrade replied with no small amount of satisfaction, slicking his erection with conditioner. The water had washed away the lubrication that had been seeping out of the Omega, making the initial entrance more difficult.  


Inspired, Lestrade knelt down and spread Sherlock’s buttocks. He worshipped the quivering entrance with his mouth, applying suction while working his tongue into the center. He was rewarded with the reappearance of the Omega’s slick. It was strange to find it neutral tasting, with the water diluting it. After a minute, during which he vaguely registered the choked panting echoing in the surround, the tip of his tongue did slip in and there was a little room for him to make a circular movement, feeling the trembling muscles just inside.  


When his jaw began to ache, Lestrade stopped and stood, this time penetrating Sherlock easily. He thrust several times into the slippery opening, and then pulled out and sat on the little shower bench - a ridiculous thing he had mocked when first buying the flat, but now…  


In a split second, Sherlock understood what Lestrade wanted. He aligned himself on Lestrade’s lap and sunk down onto the Alpha’s hard erection. Face-to-face now, Sherlock could not avoid Lestrade’s probing gaze. They kissed briefly.  


The Omega focused on riding Lestrade’s cock, and Lestrade sucked hard at his neck, leaving marks that practically made the Alpha purr.  


They fucked languidly, neither in a hurry to end it.  


“I really want to fill you to bursting with my cum,” Lestrade mused.  


“Not possible,” Sherlock replied in a voice that ended with a short, choked syllable. It was hard to tell because of the heat of the water, but he seemed to blush at the suggestion, the Alpha observed. Shyly, Sherlock buried his head against Lestrade’s shoulder.  


Lestrade smiled, “Unless you remember our first day together. We could do that again. I filled you, then plugged you, then filled you again.”  


A strangled noise broke out from the Omega’s vocal cords, “I have a perfect memory. I cannot forget, unless I choose to. And that, I will never delete from memory.”  


The Alpha didn’t reply. He grabbed Sherlock by the sides and held him still as he thrust in as deeply as he could before orgasming.  


“Kneel on the floor and don’t move,” he said, as he helped Sherlock ease off his cock. He shut the water off as he left the shower. Mindful of his Omega, he returned after a moment to drape a towel over the pale man, regardless of the wet tile.  


He left once again, and Sherlock tracked his movements with avid interest. Lestrade returned with a small anal speculum and knelt down behind the Omega. Sherlock spread his cheeks obediently.  


Lestrade slicked up the steel instrument and eased it in, the closed circle of the blades easily slipping in until the handle stopped them. Deftly, he started to twist the little knob on the side, opening up the two blades. Sherlock was already a bit stretched out, so Lestrade was able to expand it to 1.5 inches before stopping.  


Sherlock’s exposed passageway twitched and throbbed. Lestrade could see the mess of cum from his orgasm.  


“I told you I wanted to spread you open and watch your slickness fill your own arse,” he spoke, with no small amount of satisfaction.  


Sherlock didn’t reply, although his passage twitched and a drop of lubrication gathered at the edge of the speculum, then slid down the length of one of the speculum’s blades. Reaching between the Omega’s legs, the Alpha began to stroke Sherlock’s half-erect cock.  


In moments, a small pool of lubrication had collected where the speculum reached the deepest.  


Mercilessly, Lestrade milked Sherlock’s pleasure. A little twist, opening him up even further, wrung a cry from the Omega.  


Sherlock’s heat-clouded brain was overloaded with sensory experience. The Alpha had let his erection go to widen the speculum, and Sherlock didn’t move to touch it himself, nearly petrified with the feel of cool air colliding with his warm lubrication as Lestrade blew into his stretched hole.  


“Hold still just a little longer,” he heard his Alpha say. It was a cruel pain and pleasure, the two seamlessly mixing as the blades were twisted open just a tiny bit more.  


“You’re wider now than the first day you were mine. Three inches now, my lovely Omega,” Lestrade spoke, “I’m going to cum in you, and then you can rest.”  


Several times the Alpha reached in two fingers inside Sherlock, seeking lubrication for his cock.  


The device was firmly seating, and, even as his insides quivered, it did not give. Sherlock was nearly wild with need by the time the Alpha climaxed, semen spurting inside him. It was the sweetest of agonies as Sherlock orgasmed soon after, his Alpha having tipped him over the edge with one last ½ twist of the screw. Instinctively, the Omega’s walls attempted to clench, anticipating a knot that would not appear.  


Before Sherlock’s post-orgasm high ended, the Alpha decreased the width of the speculum and pulled it out with ease. Sherlock’s hole attempted to close, and nearly succeeded.  


The Alpha rubbed a salve on the edges of his rim. Sherlock yelped. The salve had a burn to it that warmed the tired muscles, encouraging them to tense up.  


Lubrication and semen still seeped out of him, dripping obscenely down his thighs.  


In a voice still rough with arousal, Lestrade enquired, “Do you want the false knot? Or a plug? Or perhaps do you enjoy the feeling of an Alpha’s cum on your thighs?” The last question stirred the Omega’s libido, despite his orgasm only minutes prior.  


“If you plug me, I fear I will never close again,” Sherlock moaned in reply, distracted as Lestrade rubbed more of the salve on his asshole, dipping his finger inside to caress Sherlock’s inner walls.  


“Oh, the ginger in this salve should take care of that,” the Alpha assured, “It’s a mild concoction, only 0.2% ginger concentrate. At that level, your eyes shouldn’t even water.”  


More liquid seeped out, despite the efforts of the omega.  


“Well, as much as I like to see you like this, my instincts abhor the waste of perfectly good sperm, so I will plug you up after all. Come to bed, Sherlock,” Lestrade instructed brusquely.  


The Alpha practically lifted the Omega off the floor; Sherlock dragged himself onto the bed, the comforter and sheet already pulled back. He lay on his side, as Lestrade selected a plug, one of the smallest he owned.  


However, after second thought, he put it back and selected another object instead. He lubed it up with the ginger concoction, then knelt beside the bed, level with the Omega’s dripping arse.  


The first three beads pushed in with almost no effort. Sherlock started, and then moaned as the warmth of ginger stimulated his insides. The 4th bead pushed in with slight resistance. The 5th caused Sherlock’s hole to widen, the pink opening stretching over the smoothness of the clear ball. Lestrade had to give the 6th ball several firm pushes until it would enter. “One more,” he promised. The 7th was the largest, the size of a golf ball. The Omega squirmed as the largeness made itself known, the globe barely pushing in on the 1st attempt.  


Patiently, Lestrade kept pushing it in, then letting it come back out. Combined with the sting of the ginger, Sherlock felt like he would pass out. Without warning, the Alpha pressed on the Omega’s perineum, sending a jolt of pleasure down his spine before shoving the bead in all the way. The Omega nearly cried in relief.  


The last three beads were left hanging outside Sherlock’s body. The last bead was preventing the leaking that had so bothered Lestrade, and the giant roundness of the bead, combined with the smaller ones, simulated a knot inside the Omega.  


“I am tempted to make you walk, to see you experience the sensation of them moving in you, weighing in you,” Lestrade mused idly, clicking the 3 remaining beads together, tugging lightly on the ones inside Sherlock.  


The Omega was nearly ready to beg for a rest when the Alpha stood up and moved to the bed. He fell asleep with one hand idly wound through Sherlock’s curls and the other resting protectively on his waist.


	7. The Guarantee

Hours later, Sherlock woke up squirming, shifting deliciously to feel the weight of the beads inside him. Lestrade stirred next to him, and the Omega stilled at once. 

”Lestrade,” he whispered. The Alpha did not respond, dead asleep. 

Sherlock slid out of bed on wobbly legs, endorphins coursing through his system. In the bathroom, he debated the best way to remove the beads, whether squatting or laying on his side or arse in the air. Mentally he grinned at that last one – no doubt the position Lestrade would prefer. 

He settled for squatting in the tub. Gripping the three beads which Lestrade had not inserted, he pulled on the others while bearing down, attempting to push them out. 

The first, and largest, bead proved to be a challenge, however. His muscles had tightened back up, as the Alpha had predicted, and evacuating the bead was stretching him to the limit. Sherlock damn near cried as the bead refused to budge, the tension on his asshole too painful. And without the accompanying pleasure, it was not tolerable. 

The only way was to re-stretch his asshole, or else ask the Alpha to touch him and release the pheromones that would bring on the high he found himself craving. 

After trying once more time, Sherlock reluctantly returned to the bedroom and crawled over to Lestrade’s side, affectionately nuzzling his chest, and running his hands over bare skin. He catalogued information on texture, heat, and sensitivity, especially as the Alpha’s nipples hardened. 

In the seconds it took Sherlock to touch, Lestrade snapped awake, immediate curiosity in his eyes. 

”My Omega,” he rumbled, “Your forwardness is unusual.” 

The Omega flushed and removed his hands, setting back on his folded knees, careful to leave a gap between his legs for the beads to rest. 

The Alpha sat up in bed, propping himself on an elbow. His assessed Sherlock, noting his lack of erection, still posture, and the absence of heat smell. 

”You need the beads out,” Lestrade surmised, with a predatory grin. 

Sherlock nearly fled, his heart suddenly racing as he considered what Lestrade might do to him. It was terrifying and, yet, it brought him to that place he desired – the best rush, the one he had pursued with the best drugs one could make or buy. Yes, even cocaine, his favorite, didn’t compare… 

“You’re in your head space,” Lestrade surmised, as Sherlock’s blue eyes unfocused for a moment. 

They snapped back to reality in an instant; He met Lestrade’s gaze without fear. 

The Alpha grinned again, “There you are, my Omega.” He laid an affectionate hand on Sherlock’s knee. 

”Alpha…” Sherlock whispered, eyes watery and stiff composure rapidly melting. 

”Right,” Lestrade replied, “the beads. The ginger did its job then, tightened you up,” he grinner, "Arse in the air, beautiful, you know how this goes.” 

Reluctantly, Sherlock did as instructed, the beads hanging outside his body tickling his inner thighs as he knelt, sending shudders through his body. 

The Alpha pulled experimentally, noting Sherlock’s squirming. Gently, he pushed his Aura, easing the dull red tension out of Sherlock’s body. 

The Omega sighed in relief, muscles throughout his body relaxing. 

“Breath steadily, count, in and out,” Lestrade instructed. He hadn’t sub-dropped Sherlock – the Omega could get to subspace on his own, if he so desired. 

Sherlock left his thoughts behind, going out and above and through and breathe… 

Lestrade waited patiently. It was nearly ten minutes later when he finally moved his hands from where they rested on Sherlock’s buttocks. 

“Comfortable?” he inquired, idly smoothing Sherlock's skin under his palms. 

“Yes,” Sherlock replied, his voice slow and dreamy. 

“Good,” Lestrade praised, “I’m going to be gone for just a second.” He retrieved frictionless lube, an oily liquid that made tight squeezes effortless, well, practically effortless. 

Back in bed, Sherlock remained unmoving as Lestrade squeezed out a generous portion over his palms, the beads already extruding, and the Omega’s ass. 

“I’m going to lubricate your passageway. You aren’t in heat any longer, so everything is dry,” the Alpha explained. With great care, he inserted the long, rounded tip of the bottle of lube inside Sherlock, angling it so that it slid to the side of the enormous bead inside the Omega. He squeezed and slowly rotated the bottle, coating the outside of the bead with lube as much as was possible. There was only a centimeter of space between each bead, just enough for the Omega’s asshole to close before being stretched again, making the work even more painstaking. 

The Alpha’s cock was completely erect as the memories from the prior night flooded in. However, he realized that the memories were clouding his thoughts, so he pushed them aside. 

Removing the now empty bottle of lubrication, he inserted his pinky finger inside Sherlock, immediately encountering the bead. One finger was replaced with two in short order. There was give, but Sherlock had tightened up considerably, making two fingers a snug squeeze. Even dripping in lube, it was not going to be easy to remove the bead without discomfort. 

“Stay put,” he ordered, and this time he returned with a small dildo. The end of it fit comfortably inside Sherlock. 

That will do, Lestrade thought, satisfied with the solution. He held the dildo in place, so that it wouldn’t slip out, and squeezed on the hand pump attached to the end. Gradually it expanded, widening the Omega. 

Lestrade pumped it to nearly 3 centimeters before the Omega’s tension bled in again. Now the dildo was firmly lodged inside, so Lestrade could use both hands. He massaged the Omega’s calves and ankles until the tension left Sherlock's Aura. 

He resumed the gradual widening; the Omega did not require another break until the dildo was over 5 cm wide. This time, a small whimper accompanied the Omega’s tension. The Alpha hushed and soothed, running his hands over the Omega’s entire body. While the pheromone release from his palms would not affect the Omega the way they did when the Omega was aroused, some transfer still occurred. 

The last part took the longest: reaching the width of 6cm. Sweat had dampened Sherlock’s hair and shivers alternated with whimpers by the time 6cm was reached. Lestrade gripped the strand of beads in his right hand and the dildo in his left. Steadily he pulled both, the beads following the dildo. 

It felt like an eternity watching the sphere widen Sherlock’s hole even farther than the dildo before it popped out. It only took seconds, but the Omega’s relief was palpable. The remaining beads pulled out with little effort. Now, the Omega took no care to disguise his shudders and moan of relief. 

Lestrade helped Sherlock out of bed and into the shower. Once the water was comfortable, he unhooked the shower head and placed it over Sherlock’s arse as best he could. He sprayed and soaped until all traces of lube were gone. Sherlock was still opened up enough to let some of the water into the Omega’s bowels, hopefully encouraging him to defecate after his heat. Sherlock moaned and groped with his hands for anchoring. The water pressure was teasing his hole just right, driving him to pleasure and a deliciously mad sensation. 

The Alpha wrapped an arm around the slim man, pinning his arms down. The Omega tilted his head back, reveling. When the Alpha judged the Omega thoroughly cleaned, he turned off the spray and left Sherlock to attend to his personal business. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The Omega collected himself before emerging from the bathroom. He studied his features in the mirror while mentally cataloging the state of his body. None of the needy euphoria of heat remained and, especially after removing the anal beads, no urge to be knotted. 

He double-knotted his robe, as if that would keep his Alpha at bay, he thought grimly. 

Lestrade was in the den, focused on his laptop while absently devouring a bowl of cereal. 

Sherlock paused in the doorway, debating whether to speak or not. 

“Sherlock,” the Alpha spoke, motioning with his hand to indicate that the Omega should sit next to him on the sofa. 

Reluctantly the Omega obeyed. 

Lestrade tilted the laptop, so that the Omega could see. 

“This happened yesterday, Tuesday evening. Look at these photos,” Lestrade instructed. 

Stunned, the Omega froze, causing Lestrade to grin. Running his fingers through Sherlock’s unruly hair, Lestrade explained. 

“You have submitted to me, bodily. I’ve knotted you, and you have shown your complete submission.” A blush graced the Omega’s face at the reminder of that particular event. “Your mind, and your loyalty – that I know I must earn over time…” He trailed off, gesturing at the laptop screen. “This enthralls your mind, and so I must offer it to you.” Features hardening, Lestrade continued, “My promise from before stands, however. Do not cross me, my Omega. The longer you stay, the longer I can trust you, the less likely I will give you away. I hope to be the last sadistic bastard you bed,” he said with a touch of possession and bitterness. 

Impulsively, Sherlock locked eyes with Lestrade. He said nothing, but let the fire and obsession he associated with their relationship, an abstract feeling of crashing cinders and the rustling of silken curtains, burning at the edge, shine through his Aura. 

The Alpha seemed pleased, letting the whirlwind dance along his edges. “You are a most fascinating creature,” he murmured, almost under his breath. Just as quickly as he had projected it, Sherlock wrapped his Aura back up, like the great whirl of a heavy coat. 

Immediately, the Omega’s eyes focused on the laptop screen, arrested by the photos. 

Lestrade observed the pale blue eyes as they flickered over the hundreds of photos of the crime scene and autopsy, which had been completed this morning. 

The victim was an Alpha of average looks in every way, which lent him a strange look, like a paper doll in death. There were dozens of photos of the body in a dumpster, coleslaw and spoiled strawberries mixed in the plastic bags of trash. They made an obscene wreathe around his features. Delicate mold crawled over the fruit, and smears of red and light gray fuzz spilled across the dead man’s face. The body had been found relatively quickly, so the rest of the body was clean of debris, and of clothing. 

The single bullet to the head was the obvious cause of death. 

“Check the criminal record of every current and past employee at the grocery,” Sherlock snapped, without taking his eyes off the screen. 

“Already in progress,” Lestrade assured. 

“No, I don’t want that list, I want the list of the clean records,” the Omega clarified impatiently, already drifting back into contemplation. 

Autopsy showed a small caliber bullet, removed from the brain. 

The other photos Sherlock skimmed through: clean skin, no bruises. 

“I need the blood work today,” the Omega stated, before handing the laptop back to the Alpha. 

“I won’t have that today,” Lestrade replied with a sigh, “I won’t have that for weeks, likely. I pulled all the strings I had to get this autopsy done this morning.” 

“Then take me to the lab, and I will run the tests myself,” the other man replied, no arrogance in his voice, only impatience. 

Lestrade displayed his incredulity openly. “You can do such things?” he asked, his voice heavy with scepticism. 

“When one has access to the internet, to literature, anything can be learned,” the Omega replied steadily. 

Lestrade’s eyes narrowed as he connected the dots. 

“You manufactured and injected some of the most potent drugs on the market. Let me guess, you tracked your own blood work, so you could study the efficacy and the effects.” As the Alpha finished surmising, the Omega’s face became emotionless and placid. He gave away nothing, and everything. 

Sherlock’s Aura had flared to life, trying to protect the Omega from a threat it couldn’t combat: truth. Crackling purple, like the heart of a propane torch, it skirted the edges of Lestrade’s own Aura, setting off metallic sparks in the corners of his consciousness whenever it touched. 

Silently, Lestrade pushed up the sleeve of Sherlock's robe, exposing the old track marks. “The marks on you should only ever be from me,” he said, touching the scars with his finger. “When you submit you fly, freer than the drugs, and I’ve only given you a taste, the smallest taste, my Omega.” 

Sherlock was frozen, stunned, except for the shiver that coursed down his spine. He knew the truth of it, the Alpha was not lying…he had only experienced a small portion of the drug, the addiction, which was Lestrade… 

The Alpha parted Sherlock’s robe and pulled down his pajamas, exposing his limp cock. 

In an unprecedented move, the Alpha stood and then knelt between Sherlock’s knees, pulling down his pants completely. Lestrade leaned in, without hesitation, and sucked the Omega’s cock, while placing a firm hand under the other’s perineum. Sherlock didn’t keep still long, slumping boneless, eyes closed, breathing deeply, as his Alpha brought him to completion.


	8. The Encounter

“You can’t wear pajamas if you want to accompany me tomorrow,” Lestrade observed dryly over supper. 

”And I know you wouldn’t take me dressed that way,” replied Sherlock in an equally dry tone, arching an eyebrow at the Alpha over a sip of a water. 

Lestrade had to admit to himself that waiting to spend money on the Omega had been a mistake. The Omega has impeccable (and expensive!) taste. He looked at least as good in his clothes as out of them. 

When the bill was rung up, Lestrade realized that Sherlock had blown through the 1,000 pounds Lestrade had been putting aside for a new car. Well, as long as this doesn’t occur again for at least two years, he mused. 

He watched Sherlock, icy and composed, ordering around the Omegas and Beta. He could pass for an Alpha, if not for his scent. Likely, he did, when on the run from his previous Alpha, Lestrade surmised. There was a market for false scents – if one could gain the trust of the small circle of buyers and sellers. Although Lestrade had been the arresting detective in Sherlock’s case, he knew very little of how the Omega had survived. If another Omega hadn’t given away Sherlock’s location, he may never have been caught; he had blended into the ghetto of Betas and Alphas for months and, likely, would have continued to do so successfully for many more. 

Lestrade was broken out of his reverie by the touch on his shoulder. 

”I’m done here,” Sherlock informed him, “Nearly everything had to be sent out to be tailored and should be ready in several weeks.” 

Lestrade stood and smoothed an errant curl back down. It was the only sign that Sherlock had tried on hundreds of items in a marathon shopping spree. Only Lestrade knew what he could look like discomposed… 

”You look handsome,” Lestrade said out-loud as his thoughts buzzed in the background. He touched the gray material of Sherlock’s shirt. “This is stunning. You look stunning,” he continued. 

"These are a few of the pieces that fit very well off the rack,” Sherlock replied offhandedly, hiding his obvious pleasure in the Alpha’s comments. 

Dressed in a gray shirt and slacks, the Omega looked positively delicious. The Alpha longed to fuck him, draw out his sighs. 

Sherlock seemed to guess at Lestrade’s line of thought as the Alpha’s eyes roamed over his entire body. Lestrade took the Omega’s arm possessively. He felt positively territorial as every Alpha in the store stared as they left. 

Sherlock seemed to pay them no mind. However, as they passed through the entrance to the store, his eyes paused briefly on a figure down the street. 

He was too far away to discern if Omega or Beta, but Sherlock’s attention was arrested by the limp and the cane the man leaned on heavily. Then, they were at the car, and Sherlock lost sight of the man as he walked around a corner. 

”That person, that man, with the limp, I know who that is,” Lestrade remarked as they got into the car. Immediately, he had Sherlock’s full attention. 

”That’s John Watson. He’s a war vet, an Omega, too, if you can imagine. He works a bit at that clinic I took you to. He deals with the regular stuff, you know, ‘My Omega has a sniffle, and oh, what shall I do?’” Lestrade’s voice mimicked the concerned voice of an overprotective Alpha. 

”He doesn't actually need that cane,” Sherlock stated summarily, settling into the front seat, staring straight ahead as if he wasn't interested in the slightest. 

The Alpha laughed, almost a bark of disbelief. “Well, I wouldn't go around saying stuff like that,” he advised. “He may be limping, but I bet he could still could kick your arse, cane or not.” 

Sherlock ignored Lestrade’s comment. The Alpha started the car and started navigating back to his flat. There was a long silence as Sherlock pretended disinterest, and Lestrade waited patiently for the Omega's curiosity to get the best of him. 

“Does he have an Alpha?” Sherlock inquired casually after several minutes of silence. 

There was a pause then Lestrade responded, choosing his words carefully, “No, killed in combat, I think. He’s free, more or less. And since he’s older and a, well, he has that limp, I guess he never re-bonded.” 

Now Sherlock had Lestrade’s full attention. “Why are you so curious about this Omega? Or are you jealous, somehow?” he asked, with a little smirk, turning from his driving to read Sherlock’s expression. 

”Merely curious,” Sherlock replied, once again exuding boredom with the conversation. 

”I wouldn’t take another Omega without your consent, or at least your resentful approval,” Lestrade assured, even though Sherlock appeared firmly disinterested. 

Sherlock was the epitome of grace and composure as Lestrade introduced him to his co-workers the following day. Several could barely contain their envy, while others, especially the Betas, resented the attention that Sherlock drew. 

Politely, Lestrade excused them and closed the door to his office, which was located in the east wing of the sprawling brick building. It was cozy, lit by lamps. 

”I detest fluorescents,” Lestrade explained, motioning at the ceiling. 

Judging by the dust on the blinds, the inside of this room was rarely seen by others. This was a proper Alpha’s lair. 

”Apologies for the mess,” Lestrade said, as he stacked books and papers on the floor, clearing off a chair. 

Sherlock sat down, absorbing his surroundings in a kind of reverie. It was safe and calm, and Lestrade. The Alpha’s scent covered all others. Sherlock’s eyes were drawn to the details of missing Omegas and Alphas, some found dead, or barely alive, others still missing. The details peeked out from every corner, every page, and every photograph. There wasn’t enough information, and, yet, there was too much. A puzzle made of a million other puzzles… 

Lestrade stopped his bustling and stood behind the chair where Sherlock sat. Gentle fingers traced the lines of the Omega’s shoulders. 

The Alpha spoke in a deep rumble, “You are doing very well, my Omega.” 

Tension melted off Sherlock’s shoulders as he let go of the stiff composure of earlier. 

”I’d like to have you, here,” the Alpha continued, fingers moving to unbutton Sherlock’s gray shirt, freshly pressed for today. 

The Omega found the idea not disagreeable. His burgeoning erection was obvious by now, as the Alpha smoothed his hands over the angular planes of the Omega’s chest. 

It felt vaguely dangerous around the edges, knowing that there were Alphas potentially only feet away, outside the walls of the room. But Lestrade had locked the door with a deadbolt – likely an addition he had made, Sherlock thought. And the door was heavy, solid wood, and the walls were made of brick… 

His thoughts were cut off as the Alpha bit his neck low, below the collar line. The Omega startled; Lestrade had nearly broken the skin. 

”Head space,” Lestrade spoke warningly. 

Sherlock complied, letting anxieties go in favor of determining exactly what the Alpha would do to him, in his semi-private den. 

”Stand and strip,” Lestrade instructed, while removing his own shirt, but not his pants, the Omega noted. Likely he would fuck Sherlock with them on, undone just enough to pull his cock free of his underwear. Lestrade stayed buttoned for the moment, though. 

He kissed Sherlock, pushing him against the edge of the desk. 

Sherlock’s erection grazed against Lestrade’s pant leg; he worried that his pre-cum would leave a mark, and then all the Alpha’s could know, would smell what they were doing, although, logically, he would reek of his Alpha’s scent and probably cum so they would already know… 

Lestrade gripped both of the Omega’s wrists, pinning them to the edge of the desk. His thumbs rested on Sherlock’s pressure points. 

”Can you leave your head space or would you rather I sub-dropped you?” the Alpha asked in a tone that brooked no pleas, no arguments. 

Silent seconds stretched out for millennia, as the Omega refused to look up at the Alpha. 

”Drop me,” Sherlock choked out in a whisper. 

He closed his eyes as the Alpha applied gentle pressure while pushing his Aura, blanketing the Omega. There was no sign of the Omega’s own Aura today, it was so tightly tucked away. 

After a minute, Lestrade released Sherlock’s wrists. 

Blue eyes, free of fear, met his. From there it was a short affair. Lestrade fished a little bottle of KY out of a bottom desk drawer. The Omega raised his eyebrows mockingly and smirked. “Not the first time you’ve spread your Alpha scent in this room,” the man said teasingly. “But never with an Omega,” Lestrade replied forcefully, pushing the Omega to turn around with a little more force than was nessecary. 

The Alpha spread lube onto his fingers then inserted them one at a time into the Omega. Then he pushed his cock in little by little, rocking in and out to the delight of the Omega. He writhed under Lestrade, making small noises of pleasure, gripping the edge of the desk with white-knuckled fingers. 

There was a knock at the door just then. Lestrade stopped his movements and called out, “Yes?” 

”Sir,” a distinctly Alpha voice responded, “I need to speak to you briefly.” 

”Are you in trouble?” Sherlock hissed. Lestrade grinned, “At my level? No. There are very few Alphas above me, and not a single one would deny me a romp with my new, beautiful Omega. Now, stay just like that, just for a moment.” The mischievous grin on his face spoke volumes. 

He tucked his cock away and buttoned his trousers and shirt. The Omega remained naked, obediently leaned over the desk. Lestrade fished around on a shelf a moment before finding what he was looking for. It was a small knick-knack, a round glass globe on a pedestal; the globe wasn’t much larger than an egg. He wiped the dust off on his shirt. “Don’t know how long this will take, but when I return I want you to be sitting in my chair with this inside you, keeping you open.” 

He set the globe down on the desk. Swiftly he slipped out the door so that no curious eyes could try to peer in. 

Left alone in the dimly lit room, the Omega slowly slid out of the head-space. Sherlock picked up the globe, cradling it in his long fingers. The glass was smooth and thick; there were no worries that it would crack. He picked up the bottle of KY and smoothed an oily layer over the surface of the thing. He even re-lubed his opening, feeling the warm edges of his entrance. 

The globe was set down in the middle of Lestrade’s chair and, gripping the arms for support and control, he eased down onto it. It took three attempts to get around the widest part with only a little discomfort. His cock throbbed as he felt his hole settling around the base of the globe, the full insertion of the round piece of glass prevented only by the little wooded base. Relatively comfortable, but throbbing with need, he waited patiently for his Alpha to return.


End file.
